


Don't speak, don't hear, don't see

by Cyberrat



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism Kink, M/M, voyeurism kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a special assignment for Eggsy during his training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't speak, don't hear, don't see

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morallydubious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morallydubious/gifts).



> I felt like I need to contribute to this sweet, little fandom :O

“Are you looking, Eggsy?“

“I- I-” Eggsy closes his eyes and breathes out a shuddering gust of air as he tilts his ass backwards. “Yah, ‘m lookin’…”

Immediately, there’s a hand at the back of his head, shoving his head forward and into the glass of the one-way-mirror. It doesn’t hurt much, but it is _loud_ , the gong vibrating dull through the room and making his eyes snap open again as he stares at the other recruits, stirring in their sleep.

“You were, in fact, _not_ looking.”

“’M sorry, Daddy…”

He can’t help the whine in his voice. Not when Harry’s fingers are deep, hooked up mean and unrelenting against his prostate, the plump gland trapped between two of them as he gives them a little wiggle that has Eggsy’s knees buckle a second.

“No need to be sorry, Eggsy. Just be more attentive. Mhh?” Harry’s suit feels cool against Eggsy’s overheated skin as he leans closer, presses his lean chest against Eggsy’s naked back. “You’ll be a good boy and solve this problem admirably. Because you are a good boy, Eggsy. A _very_ good boy. Just as much as your father has been…”

He trails off at that, mouth pressed unmoving against the slope of Eggsy’s shoulder, free hand coming around to snake past the boy’s heaving ribs and take a hold of the medal hanging from his neck. Eggsy has never taken it off during their _time_ together and he is pathetically thankful that Harry hadn’t insisted he do so.

Hearing the praise made him feel a rush of warmth, toes curling against the cold floor and hole clenching down on the fingers still deep and intrusive inside him. He barely remembers his father and yet – and _yet_. Sometimes he wants so badly to be like him that it hurts.

“Come,” Harry coaxes from behind as he lets go of the medal, and steps back, taking the support of his tall, lean body and the delicious stretch of his cruel fingers with him. Eggsy feels off-kilter as he turns around, legs wobbly and hole pulsing open and closed around nothing; a hungry mouth that needs to be filled up and spread open until it was pouty and swollen for hours.

Harry was already sitting in a chair – upright and regal and detached looking, were it not for his cock, jutting out of his perfectly pressed slacks, fat and dusky red with the foreskin still encasing most of the swollen head Eggsy was itching to get inside.

“Come, Eggsy,” Harry calls again, thin lips twisted in mild amusement.

“Yes, Daddy.” He is clumsy like a young puppy – like his pug has been not too long ago – as he makes his way over, nothing of the gymnast’s grace in his limbs as the need to get filled up burns in his belly, the metal of the medal warm and comforting against his naked chest.

Harry’s lips curve in something that looks like pleasure. He doesn’t reach for him, doesn’t hold open his arms for his boy – but he _does_ help him arrange his long limbs on the small chair – helps Eggsy to take a seat on Harry’s lap, their cocks kissing up against each other awkwardly. Eggsy shudders, eyes going large and mouth going soft.

“Please? Please, Daddy…”

“Oh, I’m not keeping you, Eggsy. I am merely providing. But you haven’t forgotten your assignment, have you?” Harry’s long hand snakes around his hip, fingers digging into Eggsy’s ass cheek before pulling it aside so the tips can reach his prepared hole and play idly with the rim. Harry watches intently how Eggsy’s eyelids become heavy and his head starts drooping back. It’s so hard to concentrate when he’s with Daddy. So hard to stay on track.

“N-No… Ah havn’…” He’s been working on his gutter speech, but it’s too easy to slip up; to become sloppy and lazy when he’s getting spread on the very tips of his Daddy’s scissoring fingers until the burn spreads through his taint and directly to his balls.

“The second the first one wakes, Merlin will cancel the mirror’s artificial opacity.”

Eggsy shudders, ass popping out, seeking more depth as his cock jerks at the reminder of them not being alone; of Merlin watching from far away, sitting behind his computer, observing their little game. He convulses as the digits suddenly leave and nearly sobs in frustration. There’s a touch, cool and soft against his cock, causing his hips to instinctively hunch forward into it. When he looks down, bleary eyed and panting, Harry is putting a pristine, dark blue handkerchief away that matches the color of his cravat and with which he dabbed at the sticky pre-cum.

“Don’t soil the suit.”

“I won’t, Daddy.”

It’s harder than he thought, though; when he slowly sits down, eyes big and lost on Harry’s face, wondering whether Merlin was watching through them – whether not only his Daddy but also his Daddy’s best friend were staring up at his sexed-out face at this very moment; watching his mouth drop open and his tongue loll out as he concentrates on the burning stretch of the cock he’s slowly pressing into himself.

It’s hard to remember to keep one hand cupped around the head of his dick, keeping it from rubbing against the sleek, pearl white shirt of his Daddy, and to keep his noises down; to restrict himself on low grunts as he starts to rock, body trembling and balls already drawing up high and tight.

“Don’t crease the suit, Eggsy.” Harry’s voice is low, gentle and it takes Eggsy a second or two until he realizes his free hand is curled claw-like into the lapel of his Daddy’s suit jacket. He nods and shakily brushes his trembling fingers across the fabric – smoothes it back down as he still moves, slow and deliberate, scrambling for sanity with every pass the fat head makes, bumping against his prostate, plump and primed from the fingering earlier.

There are tears in his eyes, from overstimulation, yes, but also _frustration_ because his Daddy is still so supremely _unconcerned_ , hands easy and relaxed on the armrests of their chair, a small, enigmatic smile on his lips. There’s no pearl of sweat, not even an uptick in breathing; only his cock, large and delicious inside Eggsy, spreading him open and filling him up. He can feel the thick vein on the underside throb against his rim and when he clenches just _so_ , he can watch Harry’s eyes suddenly dilate and his nostrils flare.

He pounces on it, works his hole as best as he can as he tries to get more of a reaction from Harry, his free hand now curled around his neck, fingers twisted in the short, fashionable haircut. It’s enough to make him loose track of the sounds he’s making, too focused on getting the flush to spread slow and inexorable from beneath his Daddy’s collar.

He is whining, though; low at first, sounding like a hurt animal as he edges himself on his Daddy’s cock, but slowly increasing in pitch, desperation making him shaky and stupid as he wets against his fingers that are gripping the head of his cock like a lifeline.

When he comes, it’s with a cry; short and relieved as everything clenches and his toes spread and curl spastically, body curving in on itself, forehead pressed against his Daddy’s shoulder.

It only takes a second before he stiffens, though, and turns around hectically even as his body still shivers through the last vestiges of his orgasm.

They’re still lying there – sleeping, not moving a muscle.

“You still need so much training,” Harry murmurs, profoundly amused from the way his thin lips were tilted, long hands cool and deathly strong as they were placed on Eggsy’s hips to hold him in place as Harry started fucking up in earnest, a small crease of concentration just about visible between his eyes.

Eggsy can’t answer; all he can do is hold on to the ride, trying to keep his sticky hand away from his Daddy’s suit as he’s getting used, wrecked, little sobs of “Daddy” getting fucked out of him until Harry’s tempo suddenly decreases abruptly, fingers digging bruises into Eggsy’s hips and breath hitching a scant, perfect moment.

“You’re a good boy, nevertheless,” Harry mumbles directly into his ear. He sounds a little out of breath and Eggsy can’t help but flush in pride. “And I will delight in conducting more of that training.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not yet proofread. Leave a little something on your way out?


End file.
